Ifonsa dismounted.

“What are you doing?” Falduin asked, as he drew his own horse to a halt.

It had been a hectic ride, especially leading so many horses, but they had managed to escape the bandit mob. They had continued north-east, laying a false trail, before turning south. Hopefully it would take the bandits until well into the morning before they realised. By then they’d be well and truly away.

That hope vanished as soon as she noticed the tracks. Even in the darkness on horseback, she could see the signs.

Ifonsa knelt down to gain a better look. Heavy boots. Soldiers. Or bandits. Only a small number of them, but even that was worrying.

“Ifonsa?” Falduin cried.

She sssshed him, as she tried to work out how old the tracks were. Yet it was almost impossible without light. She carefully examined the surrounding area, ensuring that her own marks didn’t disturb theirs.

“What?” Falduin said. She knew he was still angry. He’d complained about her killing The Witch. He needed to get over it, and quickly.

“Someone has been here,” she whispered.

“Who?”

“That is the poorest owl call I have ever heard,” a voice said from amid the trees.

Ifonsa spun around ready to fight, Then she realised it was Lera.

“You gave me quite a fright,” Ifonsa told Lera . ”I thought you were a bandit.”

“No. I took care of them,” The Priestess said. “Where are the others?”

“I don’t know. We haven’t seen them.”

“How did you get Rianio?” Lera said, rubbing the massive grey stallion’s muzzle. The horse nodded its head enjoying the attention.

“The horses weren’t in town. We found them in the bailey.”

“Heric is going to be pleased.” Lera said, but her smile immediately disappeared. “Have you two been wallowing in a cesspit?” she asked, making a face.

“More or less,” Falduin answered. “I have a spell that will deal with it.”

“ Come on. Let’s lead the horses toward the camp. Did you find any food?”

“Presuming Falduin has left us any,” Ifonsa said, “we should have enough for a few days.”

“More than a few,” Falduin said. “ Perhaps a week if we ration it. There’s a sack of horse feed too. Not much but enough in a pinch, if we ever run out of grass.” He grinned suddenly, “I even scored a jug of wine.”

“May The Gods bless you for three thousand years, you sweet man,” Lera said with a smile

“Only three thousand?” Falduin asked. “I planned living much longer.”

It was late. Already there was enough light for Ifonsa to see the marks in the undergrowth left during the scuffle between Lera and the bandits. It told a short, but vicious story. Lera’s efficiency surprised her.

The initial few hours after their return to the camp had been busy. Ifonsa had seen to their mounts, checking to ensure they were ready for a long journey. There was enough new grass and she allowed them to graze for a few hours, before preparing them to move again.

When it came time for Falduin to use his magic to clean away the mess on their clothes, he had wanted her to strip off and remove them. She of course refused. She wasn’t going to engage in his perverted ways.

“Very well, but it might burn a little,” he told her. “And you could lose some hair.”

“Just do it,” she told him.

If they had time she would have washed them herself or changed into her spare clothes. It was bad enough that he hovered his hands just above her body as he mumbled to himself with his eyes closed. It felt like he was pawing at her with his mind. She hated it. And it did burn, and she did lose some hair, but she never ever let the discomfort show.

Later the three of them had eaten a light breakfast of sorts, as they shared stories about what had happened to them during the night. Surprisingly, Falduin hadn’t exaggerated his own role when explaining their raid upon the bailey and kitchen. He seemed more concerned that Lera was unharmed over her own skirmish.

Once it was light enough, Ifonsa inspected the bodies of the bandits Lera had slain. Both men wore the same crudely-wrought iron ring: a snake coiled around to eat its own tail. The sign was the emblem of the snake cultists.

She had heard about them during the war. She had even met one: a soldier named Aebard, from Padun. He kept showing off his ring to everyone, offering to reveal how anyone could get their own. That it was the best decision he had ever made.

“Do they come in gold?“ Adanna had asked him.

“Yeah, and silver,” he replied, completely missing Adanna’s joke.

This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road. If you spot it on Amazon, please report it.

“I think I might marry the first man that gave me a gold one with diamonds for eyes.”

“Really?” he asked.

“Shall we discuss it?” she asked him, “Alone?”

Of course, Adanna never got her gold ring. Ifonsa had later heard that Aebard’s entire band had being wiped out at the Battle of Wuph Ridge. She wondered why the bandits that had ambushed them on the river hadn’t had the rings. Were they just hired help, or was she missing something?

For the last few hours there had been little to do but wait to see if the others showed up. Ifonsa considered sneaking away to act as a sentry, but she was tired. The thought hadn’t manifested into action. She enjoyed listening to the world returning to wakefulness.

Falduin did not. He paced back and forward, unsettled.

“The plan was, we were to leave before dawn,” Falduin reminded them, not for the first time.

“We don’t leave people behind,” Ifonsa told him. “Otherwise you’d still be back there staining the field red with your blood instead of The Witch’s.”

Falduin threw her a dark look, but he remained silent as he paced.

“You killed The Witch?” Lera asked Falduin, as she finished eating her apple. Falduin had only mentioned they had escaped The Witch, not the specifics.

Falduin didn’t answer Lera nor meet her gaze.

“No,” Ifonsa replied, eventually. “But she’s quite dead.”

“Not necessarily,” Falduin said.

“I shot her through the throat.”

“Someone like Lera might be able to save her.”

“Someone like me?” Lera asked, sharply.

Falduin halted before Lera. “Sorry. I meant no disrespect.”

“Apology accepted.”

“No....” Falduin began pacing again, “There’s something wrong.”

“What?” Ifonsa asked.

“She shouldn’t have been able to beat me.”

“But she did beat you. You admit that?”

“She distracted me. Bemused me. That shouldn’t be possible.”

“Why? Because the all-powerful mighty Falduin is not easily bemused?” Ifonsa was having fun teasing him.

“She lacked the discipline. Her mana was too chaotic. It would be like a drunk archer, spinning around until they could barely stand, then hitting the centre of the target with every arrow.”

“I could do that.”

“But The Witch couldn’t,” Falduin said, “I believe she had help.”

“Help?” Lera asked.

Falduin nodded, then said, “Also, she might not be dead.” He paused then added a “Yet.”

“What sort of help?” Lera prompted.

“I don’t know. That’s what’s bothering me.”

It was later. Much later. The sun had fully risen. Ifonsa couldn’t see it because of the heavy clouds, but the signs were everywhere. The breeze smelt of rain, blowing in from the south-west. And yet, despite the weather, the air was still filled with birds and their songs.

In particular, a pair of charfinches buzzed Ifonsa, trying to ward her away from their nest. Their eggs couldn’t have hatched yet, Ifonsa realised. Otherwise one of them would always remain with the brood.

She couldn’t move from the tree, however. This position offered her an excellent view, and it was good distance from the camp. Away from Falduin’s constant whining. He desperately wished to leave.

“Why don’t you two leave and I remain?” Ifonsa offered.

“And go where?” Lera snapped. “No. They know where this camp is. They will return here. Who knows in what state they will be. It is upon us all to wait for them.”

“How long do you plan to wait?” Falduin asked.

“As long as is required.”

“Yes, but how long is that?”

“As long as necessary,” Lera said. “Have faith. I do.”

Falduin snorted derisively, and began pacing again.

The tree overlooked the most direct route back to Harnsey. Ifonsa had examined the area, especially the marks left by the bandits. There had been five of them, perhaps six. All those that had escaped had fled back the way they came.

The traces were many hours old. Ifonsa was a little surprised none of the bandits had found their way back yet. There was easily enough time to reach the town and return. Yet there was no sign of anyone.

She yawned. It was extremely pleasant being surrounded by trees and birds and all sorts of creatures again. It almost felt like home.

She missed the first sign. And the second. But the third she caught. Her hand went to her knife.

“That’s a strange looking bird, don’t you think?” said a voice immediately below her.

“A very strange bird,” replied another voice.

“I could hear you from half-a-league away,” Ifonsa said, dropping down to the ground.

“We could hear that awful racket from at least that far away,” Heric said.

“Falduin?” Ifonsa asked.

“The chaffinches.”

“You’re late.” Ifonsa said.

“We stopped to pick up some loot,” Ganthe said with a grin. They were all carrying bedrolls, with more attached to the packs on their backs. “We’re going to need these.”

Ifonsa’s gaze however switched to the third member. “Who’s this?”

“Orwic,” Heric said. “He’s one of Rido’s people.”

“I thought I knew all of Rido’s people.”

“I’m new, “Orwic said, “Plus nobody knows all of Rido’s people, including Rido. That’s how he likes it.”

Ifonsa nodded. “Good answer,” she whispered, almost to herself. Then to Heric she said, “I have a surprise for you.”

“Is it a good surprise?” Heric asked.

“The best.”